


Belated

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Food Porn, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Puns, Puns & Word Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avon forgets something important to Blake, but he makes it up to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Belated

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Avon lay on his back, arms outstretched at an angle carefully calculated to look as if he was simply making himself comfortable, and the fact that his arms encircled a Blake-shaped space was purely coincidental.

Blake sighed, barely loud enough to be heard over the soft sound of his cabin door shutting behind him. "Sorry, Avon, I'm just not in the mood."

Avon sat up and scowled. "You haven't been 'in the mood' for over a week. No, I lie. You haven't been 'in the mood' for sixteen days. Sixteen days! What did I do _now_?" Avon practically wailed. "Didn't I argue enough? Wasn't I sarcastic enough? Didn't I stand toe-to-toe and hiss at you on the flight deck enough?"

Blake shook his head. "No, you've been perfectly annoying, as usual, Avon. It's just me." Blake sighed again, and sat down on the bed next to Avon and began pulling off his boots. "You can fuck me, if you like."

"While you lay there and play martyr? No, thank you, not again. I've checked in medical, there's no reason you can't get it up. Unless you've gone elsewhere for your satisfaction." Avon looked at Blake, his eyes opened wide in horror. "You haven't... not _Jenna_."

Blake laughed. "No, I've not forgotten who I am, Avon. I like brunettes, remember?" he said playfully, reaching out to tousle Avon's hair.

"Cally?" Avon said doubtfully.

"Hmm... Cally is _very_ attractive." Blake gave Avon a sidelong glance. "Don't _you_ think so?"

"I was drunk," Avon replied with dignity. "And it was dark. Don't change the subject. If you're not impotent, and you're not tired of me..." Avon paused while Blake took off his shirt and threw it at Avon, who couldn't help stopping to inhale the fragrance that was uniquely Blake. "Well, what is it, then?"

Blake took a deep breath, then let it out while he undid his belt, opened his zip and took off his trousers and underpants. "It's nothing really. I just realized one day that I'm not a randy young man anymore, and it's undignified to behave like one."

Avon's jaw dropped. "What?" Then his eyes narrowed. "Sixteen days ago... oh, hell, why didn't you say so?" Avon climbed out of bed. "I'll be right back. Keep the bed warm."

"Um, Avon," Blake said, as Avon reached the door. "You're naked."

"Yes."

"You're also rather..." Blake's hand made an upward flip.

"Oh, good, you noticed."

"You're not going out like that."

"Yes, I rather think I am. Unless you can come up with a pointed argument in the next twenty seconds?" Avon looked at Blake's face, then further down. "No, I didn't think so."

"What will you do if anyone sees you?"

"That all depends on who it is. I can run faster than Jenna. Vila can, and will, run faster than me. If Cally catches me, I'll be twenty minutes getting back." Avon left.

***

Twenty-three minutes later, Avon walked back into Blake's cabin, carrying a large plastic tub. He was slightly red-faced and out-of-breath. His hair was also tousled.

Blake looked at Avon's face, then further down. "Were you drunk again?" he asked in that deep, soft voice that usually meant Trouble for someone.

Avon didn't blush with embarrassment. He couldn't as he was already flushed, but he did raise one corner of his upper lip in the sort of smile a spoiled lap-dog gives when it's caught with its teeth sunk into your sandwich. A 'Don't blame me, you knew what I was like when you brought me home' sort of smile. "It would have been impolite to refuse her."

Blake stared at Avon. "Since when have you cared about courtesy?"

"Since you started inviting trained, armed, and homicidal, guerrillas on the ship. Now, shut up and lie back."

"Why?" Blake said, grumpily, even as he complied. "Cally got all the best bits. You've nothing left for me."

"Well, you wanted a happy crew, didn't you?" Avon set the tub down, removed the lid and produced an aerosol can.

Blake frowned. "I told you, I'm too old for silly games."

"If you'd like to get any older, you will lie still!" Avon was beginning to look annoyed.

"Oh, all right," Blake put his hands behind his head, and spread his legs. "How's that?" he said in a very bored tone of voice.

"Perfect." Avon shook the can and began applying a layer of whipped cream, outlining as close to a rectangle as possible on Blake, starting across the shoulders, and ending across the thighs.

"This isn't going to arouse me," Blake said, "You're just wasting perfectly good food."

"One more word, Blake, and I'll..."

"What?" 

"I don't know, but I'll think of something and you won't like it."

Blake heaved another long-suffering sigh and shut his eyes.

"Better." Avon removed a spatula from the tub and meticulously smoothed out the whipped cream. 

Blake peeked, but at Avon's frown he shut his eyes again, and proceeded to attempt to ignore Avon. It wasn't easy. There were times where it seemed that Avon was doing nothing, but he was moving all around Blake, and the whipped cream kept melting and being reapplied. Finally Avon said, "Now, remember, STAY STILL! All right, you can look now."

Blake opened his eyes and it was all he could do not to flinch. "Bloody Hell, Avon, you've set me on fire!"

"Yes, well, that was the idea. NO," Avon snapped as Blake started to bring his hands down. "Blow!"

"You're mad!"

"I'm getting there. Blow."

Blake blew out the fires and then noticed what Avon had written on the whipped cream in dark blue icing- "Happy Birthday, Dear Roj". Avon began plucking out the candles, slowly, dragging each one through the whipped cream and then sucking the cream from each candle before depositing it in the plastic tub. Blake counted them, and he frowned again. "Thirty-six? I've only just turned thirty-five!" Sixteen days ago, he thought, but didn't say.

"And one to grow on," Avon murmured. "And it is, isn't it?" he said, sounding terribly pleased with himself.

Blake was still trying to act grumpy, but it was becoming more difficult. "THAT'S not a candle," he said, as Avon proceeded to suck the whipped cream off the evidence that Blake wasn't down in the dumps anymore.

"Oh, I know. I'm just feeling Wick-ed," Avon replied, while Blake groaned. "You know how it excites you when I really get on your wick," he added.

"I wish you would," Blake said as the past sixteen days of celibacy suddenly seemed a very stupid idea.

"Are you sure? This isn't too childish for you, is it?" Avon asked politely, finely manicured nails scratching lightly about Blake's balls, which, Blake noted when he peered closely, were coated in blue icing.

"Avon!"

"Hmm. No, wait, I've forgotten one thing." Avon turned back to the plastic tub, and picked up one perfect glossy red cherry. "Pretty please, and a cherry on top," he said with satisfaction as he positioned it on Blake's cock, using the foreskin to hold it in place. "There. All done." He admired his work for a moment. "Ah, my favorite fruit," he said as he knelt and began tonguing the cherry, running it around and around the head of Blake's cock under the foreskin.

"I... thought... that was raspberries," Blake gasped.

"Second-favorite," Avon said, kissing the side of Blake's cock. "There's nothing like a nice, rosy-red, ripe rebel. So fresh, so firm, so full of juice."

"Avon!"

"No more puns?" Avon said, wistfully.

Blake rolled his eyes frantically, and started to grab at himself. Avon slapped his hands away. "No more puns," Avon said and snatched a handful of something slicker and thicker than whipped cream from an open container in the plastic tub and wrapped his hand around Blake's cock.

Avon straddled Blake, slipping awkwardly on the whipped cream for a few seconds, before he found an anchoring point and sat down on it. "Ahhh," Avon said, throwing his head back, partly because he knew Blake liked to see his vulnerable neck, and partly because he just felt doing it. "Much, much better," Avon said in a deep, throaty voice. Then he began singing, "Hap...py birthday... to you,... Happy... bir..thday to you," as he moved up and down, and Blake synchronized his thrusts.

"Happ...oh, yes, Blake... happy... very happy... birth... day... dear...Blaaaaaake!" Avon did a credible hi-C over C warble as Blake flung him halfway up to the ceiling with his final thrust.

***

"And what shall I get you on your birthday?" Blake said, several minutes later, while Avon was busily licking stray whipped cream off various cracks, crevices, and folds of Blake.

Avon paused, his serious look at Blake quite spoiled by the globs of whipped cream on the tip of his nose and his chin. "Hmm... how about seconds?"

"Wait a moment. What happened to the cherry?"

Avon looked pained, then he grinned. "Don't worry, Blake. It'll come out all right in the end."


End file.
